Please Let Me Help
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Mid-s3, Lucien and Jean each take care of the other in the way they didn't know they really needed.
1. Chapter 1

**Please Let Me Help**

"Agh!"

Lucien Blake looked up from the medical chart he was studying in his office upon hearing a strange exclamation coming from elsewhere in the house. He recognized the voice as Jean's, but he'd never heard her make any sort of sound like that before. He stood from the desk to investigate.

He found Jean in the kitchen, leaning over the table. She had her face scrunched into a pained grimace, and she was moaning quietly.

"Jean? Are you alright?"

She opened her eyes and swallowed hard before attempting a smile of reassurance. It didn't come across as well as she intended. "I'm fine."

"You're clearly not fine. What's happened?" he asked with concern.

Jean huffed, "I was trying to rearrange that bottom cabinet over there." She tilted her head toward the open cabinet door beside the stove. "And I tried to lift a stack of pots in an awkward way and…" she trailed off, breathing slowly in pain. "I'll be fine in a bit, I'm sure."

Lucien frowned. "Do you often have back trouble? I've never noticed before."

"On and off. It doesn't bother me much, if ever, anymore. I had a terrible back injury back on the farm, so it acts up every so often when I do something stupid like this," she grumbled, annoyed at her own folly.

"Did you have a doctor look at it? You had X-rays and such?"

Jean shook her head dismissively. "No, we couldn't afford it. But in about two days I was fine. And I'll be fine in a few hours at the most. Honestly, Lucien, it's nothing to worry about," she assured him.

"Well obviously it is something to worry about, since you're clutching that table for dear life. And I've never seen you in pain like this, Jean. And I don't like it."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you. If you don't like it, you can go back to your study," she snapped.

"No, don't be silly. Here, let me help," he offered, crossing over to her.

But Jean shied away from him. A little too abruptly. She hissed in pain at the sudden movement. And she realized how foolish she was being. "Oh alright," she finally conceded.

"That's a girl," he murmured, taking her hand and placing his arm around her waist to help her walk to the parlor. "Let's get you more comfortable, hmm? What would be best, sitting or lying down?"

"Lying down, I think."

"I'll get you settled and then boil some water for a hot compress. That'll soothe the muscles. Even from where my arm is, I can feel the spasm," he noted.

Jean couldn't help but think that was an oddly intimate thing for him to have said. She suddenly felt even more self-conscious about this whole affair. "You really don't have to go to all this trouble, Lucien."

"I'm not just going to let you suffer alone, Jean. Please let me help."

She furrowed her brow slightly as she looked at him. His tone was soft, almost as though he was begging. Begging her to let him help. Help her.

They made it to the sofa and got Jean comfortably lying on her stomach, resting her head on her forearms. The position helped her spine to lengthen nicely, relieving the pressure on her muscles.

Lucien looked at her and couldn't help but want to get her into the surgery so he could examine her properly. But it had been like pulling teeth to get her to allow this much. "Right. I'll start the water to boil. Anything I can get you while I'm in the kitchen?"

"No, thank you," she replied, her voice muffled into her arms.

He placed a kind hand on her elbow before walking away. Lucien filled the kettle and lit the stove. On his way back to Jean, he paused in his surgery to check to see what kind of pain killers and muscle relaxers he had in stock. He took a few pills and brought them back to the parlor. "Right, I've got some pills for you to take when you feel up to it. I know you can't really swallow anything right now. Perhaps I should have thought of this before we got you lying down," he realized.

"No, it's fine. I don't want to take anything," she insisted.

"If you're sure."

"Yes, I am. Most of the pain is gone now that I'm lying down. It just all feels very tight and stiff."

He nodded knowingly. "That'll be the spasm. You need to get the muscles to loosen."

"And the hot water bottle will do that, yes?"

"It'll take a while, but yes, it'll help." Lucien paused, knowing there was a much simpler way to help. "Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?"

Jean felt her whole body tense up at his suggestion. A new wave of pain radiated from her back. She had lied when she told Lucien that most of the pain was gone. It was beginning to be unbearable. "I suppose if you think it'll help…"

"Yes, I imagine it should." Lucien came to sit beside her body on the sofa. He reached his hands toward her and pulled them back.

"Go on then," Jean prompted. The pain was making her delirious.

With adequate encouragement, Lucien began to gently knead the muscles in her back, going up to her shoulders and down as low as he dared. Jean didn't seem to protest anything he was doing. Quite the opposite, actually. She made soft moans of pain that turned to groans of relief. Ever so slowly, Lucien could feel the muscles relax under his fingers. Though it was hard to tell, since he was massaging her over all her clothes and undergarments and couldn't actually judge the pressure needed as well as he would have liked.

"You know, you're the only one I trust to do this," Jean commented, breaking the silence between them.

"Is that so?" Lucien replied with a small smile. He felt himself sit straighter with pride.

"Yes, well, you're a doctor," she qualified.

"Oh. Of course, yes." Lucien slumped a little. Obviously it was because he was a doctor. It was foolish to want to believe otherwise.

"Well, that and…" she trailed off.

"And, what?"

"You're you," she said simply.

He grinned. "And you're you. And you're the only one I'd do this to. Anyone else in pain like this, I'd force them to get X-rays or at least lie in my surgery after taking the medication I prescribe. But not you, Jean Beazley. No, you're special."

Jean didn't reply. She just readjusted her head. But Lucien could see the big smile on her face.

In the kitchen, the kettle began to whistle. "I'll fill the hot water bottle. If you lie here with it for a little while, you should be good as new."

"Do you know where the hot water bottle is?" she asked dubiously.

"Yes, actually, I do. Unless you've moved it since I used it on Mrs. Derson last week." He stood up to get it.

"Lucien?"

He paused. "Yes, Jean?"

"Thank you," she said quietly.

In a moment of inappropriate affection, Lucien leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her temple. He didn't say another word. He just went right off to his task of getting the hot water bottle.

Jean was left alone in the quiet of the parlor, scolding herself for her momentary thought that she was a little glad she'd been injured today. Even so, she buried her face in her arms to cover up the beaming smile she couldn't seem to prevent.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: This is a companion piece, based on the same concept and the same prompt-quotes. I couldn't decide who I wanted to say the quotes, so I decided to write it both ways. Neither of these stories has much to do with the other, beyond the same inspiration and the same general time period in the show.

* * *

A very loud crash caused Jean to drop a dish in the sink, cracking it in half. She turned off the faucet and ran outside. Because just before that crash, she'd heard Lucien Blake's car driving up to the house.

Sure enough, the car had collided with a tree. "Lucien!" she shouted, rushing to check on him.

"I'm fine, Jean," he replied. But his voice was soft and strained.

She pried open the car door. "What happened? Are you hurt?" she asked, a note of panic evident in her voice.

"No, everything is fine. I just didn't realize the tree was so close. Or that I was going so fast. I'll take the car to the mechanic in the morning. It should be an easy fix."

Jean frowned. His words were slurred. "Lucien, I'm going to ask you again, _are you hurt_?" she asked more forcefully.

"My neck twinges a bit. It might be a bit of whiplash, but nothing to worry about. I'm fine. How are you?" he asked. He turned to look at her and hissed in pain.

"Right, that's enough of that. Turn off the engine and come in the house this instant. You're lucky Mattie is working a night shift," Jean grumbled.

Lucien took the key out of the ignition and gently hauled himself out of the car. "Why should I be lucky Mattie is working a night shift?" he asked curiously.

"Because if she were here, she'd be ashamed of you."

"And you're not?"

Jean had been about to say that she was, but her opinion didn't matter. But that wasn't true. Recently, she'd become all too aware that her opinion mattered to him a great deal. When he paid attention to what it was. "No, Lucien, I'm not ashamed of you. I just want you to take better care of yourself," she said softly.

Lucien walked with Jean into the house. He was having trouble keeping in a straight line. That was likely a combination of drinking heavily and having a slight head trauma. Jean clearly noticed and took his arm, guiding him up the walk and inside. She brought him into his study.

"Now, what can I get for you?" she asked, bending down to look at him at eye level.

"Nothing," he replied. "I really am fine, Jean."

Her brow raised as she regarded him dubiously. "If you're fine, why were you out late drinking?"

"Matthew and I went to the Club to celebrate," he told her.

"Your celebrations don't usually leave you unable to operate the car," she pointed out.

All of a sudden, a wave of sadness crossed his expression. As though Jean's prodding had broken the wall he'd held up. He didn't say anything. He didn't know if he could.

"Please let me help," she requested quietly.

"My neck hurts," was all he said in return.

Jean stood up, folding her arms. She wasn't entirely sure what to do about that. After all, he was the doctor. "Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?"

The smallest smirk came to his lips. "Yes, I think that would be very nice. Thank you."

She came to stand behind his chair and tentatively began to rub his shoulders and neck. "How's the pressure?"

"A bit more, if you can."

Jean kneaded his muscles a little harder for a moment but stopped. "Here, take off your jacket. That might help." She helped him with the sleeves and slipped it off him, hoping to keep him from jostling himself too much. With the jacket placed safely to the side of the desk, Jean returned to massaging his neck. His skin was warm beneath his shirt, she could feel. And the skin she did touch was surprisingly soft. A whiff of his hair cream and natural scent mixed with scotch whiskey filled her nose and momentarily made her want to lean in to bury her entire face into the space between his shoulder and neck. But Jean shook herself, dispelling that frightening notion right away.

Lucien melted into her touch. She had such strong hands. Years of manual labor, surely. But her touch was still somehow gentle and kind. Just as she was. Jean was always so strong and sure but soft and lovely. So very lovely. The whiskey was still clouding his thoughts. It was a nice cloud to be lost in for the time being.

After a minute or so, Jean broke the silence. "You never did tell me why you drank so much at the Club"

"Matthew and I closed an old case today. New evidence turned up and we got a confession. We were celebrating. But I wanted the distraction. So I had more than I should have," he explained.

"Distraction from what?" she pressed.

"Today is Li's birthday."

And Jean suddenly understood. "Well, you sent her something, didn't you?"

"Yes. But I spent so many years dreading this day, feeling such a sense of loss. I never stopped looking for her, but I honestly never thought I'd see her again. In the back of my mind, I always feared she was dead. And now that I know she's alive and well, so very far away…the distress is still very attached to this date."

Jean stopped the massage for a moment just placing her hands on his shoulders in a moment of comfort. She had imagined that was why he was unhappy, but she didn't expect him to actually articulate it.

"You know, you're the only one I trust to do this," Lucien added. His words had caused her to recommence the massage.

"I'm sure when you sober up, you'll realize that there are far more qualified people in your life who can take care of you after whiplash," she countered.

"A doctor or nurse would just give me a painkiller and a neck brace. No, you're the only one I'd let do this. You're a comfort to me in every way, Jean."

Her hands stilled once more. "I'm glad," she whispered in reply. She stared at the back of his head, half-wishing he'd turn in his chair and say something while making eye contact. The other half of her begged him to change the subject.

Lucien could feel her eyes on him just as clearly as he could feel her hands. "I think this will go a long way to letting me wake up without a stiff neck. It's rather late now. I'm sure you want to get to bed. I won't keep you," he said somewhat awkwardly.

"You should get some rest. I can bring you a hot compress, if that would help."

"No, that's quite alright. I think I'll be going to bed myself very soon."

Jean nodded. This evening had already gone far beyond the realms of decorum. She should leave while she still knew that to be true. "Very well. Goodnight, Lucien."

And with that, Jean took her hands off his shoulders. He felt cold with her absence. But Lucien was sure he'd have nice, warm dreams tonight.


End file.
